


Entrapment

by newbandnamethx



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, M/M, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Vaginal Fingering, a shockblurr fic in 2020? more likely than you'd think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:10:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26450131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newbandnamethx/pseuds/newbandnamethx
Summary: Shockwave seduces Blurr as a way of throwing him off the trail of finding the Decepticon traitor
Relationships: Blurr/Longarm Prime | Shockwave
Comments: 6
Kudos: 99





	Entrapment

The first thing that Shockwave had the delight of learning about his underling was that Blurr talked. A lot. And when he started talking, only primus could guess as to when he would stop. Day in, day out, Blurr delivered his reports in the form of a nonstop verbal spew that Shockwave could only parse on later reviewings of his recordings, at first.

But as tensions grew within the ranks and Shockwave noted Blurr’s reports seemed to be closing in remarkably fast on an area of interest to discover who the traitor was, that didn’t necessarily rule out himself, he began to watch the mech more closely.

There were things about Blurr that grated him initially. His twitchy mistrusting nature, his smug confidence, his undying loyalty to the Autobot cause. But as their time together increased, and Shockwave began to understand the mech better, things that Shockwave once found irritating he now found a draw. A curiosity. He wondered, dimly, as he watched Blurr’s mouth move rapidly, delivering today’s report on all the intelligence he had managed to gather, what it would be like to have those qualities working for him

He knew too well what it was like to have Blurr working against him. It was a constant presence nagging at the back of his processor and as he watched Blurr slowly work through webs of intelligence and condense the information into an organized map, he realized that Blurr would most likely uncover his identity by the end of the year, if not sooner.

That could not be.

One of the things that had become apparent to him from his observations of Blurr was that the mech harbored a long and deep muddle of confused feelings for Longarm. It was a cross between attraction and hero worship, with a streak of the wary taboo of lusting after your boss.

In short, it was an opening to exploit.

So Shockwave put in motion a plan. It was so simple, and rooted in base desires that he almost felt it beneath him to embark on this sort of thing, but at the same time, the appeal of experimenting in areas he had never had cause to, helped draw him in.

It helped that Blurr was, he supposed, an ideal specimen. Lean and quick, his entire body built for the speed and impatience that pervaded his entire frame, but with an unexpected shock of tenacity and sharpness that ran central to his personality. No Shockwave’s interest in the special operative was not entirely feigned.

It started easily enough. Light brushes of plating when they were in close spaces, a steadying servo as he pretended to mismanage his considerably larger frame and knock Blurr slightly off balance in passing. 

He watched the other mech carefully all the while, noting the quicker invents, the way his optics brightened, the subtle rocking of excitement. Yes, all was going smoothly.

After the unintentional touches came the intentional ones. Never too direct as to be unprofessional. What was the human expression? Blurr was a frog that had to be boiled slowly. So gradually Shockwave worked on adjusting the heat.

Calm shoulder pats of placid affection at a job well done, a servo pressing to the small of his back to steer Blurr with him as they left meetings. Markedly more time spent one on one. He noted the way the temperature of the mech next to him picked up slightly at these advances. Noted the subtle tremor that wracked it’s way through Blurr’s frame if his digits happened to brush him in a manner that could almost be regarded as sensual if he hadn’t been so diligent in keeping his expression and posture absentminded.

He didn’t miss the way Blurr started leaning into his touches, the way he kept finding him at his side, notably closer than before. The standoffish edge to Blurr’s personality was dulling as he became accustomed to the near proximity. A time or two Blurr had even dared to touch back, a tentative servo pressed to his forearm or digits brushing during an exchange of datapads.

Shockwave set up a dud agent. He had been eyeing the web of data that Blurr had collected and been looking for ins to skew it and perhaps bring it crashing down completely with a bit of targeted misguidance. So he sabotaged a lower ranking decepticon double agent, leaving enough clues, a subtle hint in the form of an unsecured (at least after he hacked it) comm that he discovered and asked Blurr to keep an optic on.

Shockwave wasn’t an idiot, which meant that no one except Megatron himself really was aware of his infiltration into the Autobots. So when the betrayal of one of their own came, when Blurr was able to quickly and correctly ascertain the identity of a decepticon double operative through the comm channel, no one would be able to point a digit back to Shockwave.

He watched the decepticon stare snarling up at his impassive visage, face uncomprehending of his true identity, and a small lick of pleasure went through him at that fact. Shockwave looked next to him to see Blurr also watching the failed decepticon being hauled off. His expression was one of smug pride, for once his twitchy nature put on pause as he stood tall and straight backed.

“Operative Blurr,” Longarm’s voice had the mech’s helm turning jerkily to look at him.

“Sir!”

“You have done an excellent job today,” Longarm’s expression is warm and his massive servo raises to pat lightly on Blurr’s back. “This calls for a celebration.”

He wonders if Blurr is aware of the way his face colors so delightfully as Blurr tries hard not to preen under the praise too visibly. “Thank you sir.”

So there they were celebrating their predestined victory, the bar hazy and full of noisy top level Autobot operatives, such as Jazz, Jetstorm, Jetfire, and Cliffjumper. Shockwave could put away drinks for cycles and barely feel a buzz compared to Blurr. Blurr was small, with a fast metabolism, but with the peer pressure of the group and Longarm’s subtle encouragement, he was quickly consuming more than even his metabolism could make do with.

“I think that’s enough,” Blurr slurred as Cliffjumper rambunctiously slid him another drink.

“We don’t have a shift in the morning, don’t tell me you’re out already,” comes Cliffjumper’s gruff bark of a laugh. The normally serious operative was well into his drinks, letting out a much less commonly seen boisterous side of himself that only served to work in Shockwave’s favor as he targeted getting Blurr smashed as his goal for the night. “And don’t you dare enable your FIM chip.”

“I don’t think I can at this point,” Blurr slurs, looking slightly drowsy. Somewhere in the back of his processor Shockwave realizes that he finds the blue mech attractive like this. Offkilter and relaxed. He tamps down the well of other situations that he’d like to see Blurr in-

“If I have any more I don’t know if I’ll be able to remember how to get h-home,” Blurr says honestly, and his point is punctuated by him leaning into the sturdy frame next to him as he rides out the rollercoaster of energex cycling through his system. The frame is warm and firm and Blurr feels entirely at home there until the twins snicker audibly. Then Blurr seems to realize he is leaning on his boss’ shoulder.

In an instant he is snapping up with a, “Sorry sir!” To the uproarious laughter of the whole table.

“Never thought I’d see the day when Blurr cut this loose,” Jazz’s smooth tone teased lightly.

“Alright, alright,” Longarm says, gesturing for the table to calm down. “I think the hero of the night could use an escort home? Yes?” He looks at Blurr, questioningly, watching as the mech struggles to understand he is being asked a question and then jolting again and nodding violently.

“Yes sir, i-it would be good for me to get home at a reasonable hour.”

“Aww, leave it to Blurr to be the party pooper,” Jetfire started.

“Of his own party,” Jetstorm chimed in, nudging his brother with a grin.

“You mean, leave it to Blurr to make the responsible decision,” Longarm cut in, tone jovial but also lightly chastising.

“Yeah, we all know how you two get,” Jazz’s voice interjected eloquently “when you try and fly while overcharged. Everybody easing up is probably a good idea. We have enemies on the loose still.”

“One less due to Blurr tonight,” Cliffjumper says, raising his glass in a last toast, part of his energex slopping over the side.

“Get him home safe,” Jazz said with a nod and a smile, also raising his glass to clink noisily against Cliffjumper’s, Jetfire’s, and Jetstorm’s.

Blurr seems to sober up a little more as they head outside, greeted by the cooler night air and the desolation of the street. He wobbles a bit unsteadily, but a large, firm servo comes up to stabilize him.

“Ah, err, sorry sir!” Blurr says, jolting upright and trying his best to look sober. One pede in front of the other, yes that was it. 

He trips.

Longarm catches him, chuckling, “Please, Blurr, feel free to walk at your own pace, we will arrive at your residence in due time.”

Despite his best efforts Blurr still manages to trip over his own pedes a few more times on their walk home.

“I was very impressed with your skills in apprehending the deceit within our own ranks,” Longarm says conversationally as he grips Blurr’s elbow to keep him from sprawling into the pavement for what is probably the third time in the past ten minutes.

“Oh that,” Blurr’s tone takes on an unfamiliarly glum tint. “I got lucky because the con got sloppy and left his comm channel unsecured. Nothin’ skillful about it,” Blurr’s smiles in a self depreciating kind of way as he stumbles on. 

“It was an important catch, luck or no, you were diligent to seize on the opportunity when it presented itself, and that is invaluable in a good operative.”

“If I am being honest sir,” Blurr, says, tone a hushed whisper. “I think all this celebration tonight might be a little pr-pre-preemptive.”

“What do you mean by that?” Dread and intrigue flicker in Shockwave simultaneously as he watches the drunken mech try to compose his thoughts. Perhaps this game of distraction would be a bit more challenging than he anticipated.

“I think the real criminal might still be at large and that the unsecured comm channel was just a distraction,” Blurr murmured. “Sorry, it is inappropriate of me to be discussing such classified material outside of work.”

“It is probably best we keep this talk to a contained environment, agreed. Please continue to keep these suspicions to yourself. Regardless of whether we still have more to root out of our ranks, your work, as always has been a caliber above the rest.”

Blurr looks up at him, optics wide, before his gaze drifts to the side and he startles. “O-oh, well, thank you sir. Ah, this is me.” 

The building is a square, dull looking thing, well kept but also not exactly inviting. It doesn’t exactly surprise Shockwave that Blurr would choose to live here, it seems to fall inline with his choices of convenience over comfort.

“Blurr, if it wouldn’t be too intrusive, I would prefer to see you inside?” At this point it actually is an earnest concern that Blurr might bash his processor walking up a flight of stairs.

Blurr’s faceplates color a deeper shade as he looks uncertain and flustered all at once, his servos fumbling to unsubspace a keycard which trembles in his grip as he attempts to swipe it to open the door. After a few tries the door beeps its assent.

As they are walking up the stairs, Longarm’s intuition serves right, as Blurr trips once again. Longarm catches him around the waist, steadying him. He feels the minute shudder again, and sees how Blurr glances back at him, glossa rapidly swiping over his lips.

“Um, thank you for walking me home, Longarm sir,” Blurr murmurs, looking both anxious and overjoyed about it.

“Of course, I wouldn’t want something to happen to our prized operative,” Longarm said with a smile and a nod.

“You could come inside if you want,” Blurr asks, optics open and hopeful and with the barest hint of a suggestive rasp to his voice.

“I don’t think that is a good idea, Blurr,” but he leans in a little closer and Blurr as overcharged and riled up from all the touches he’d been receiving all night, can barely help the way his body lunges towards Longarm, pushing his lips against his superior’s in what is altogether an endearingly chaste kiss.

Longarm permits the kiss for a few seconds before jerking out of it lightly, careful not to make his rejection too strong as to preserve some of Blurr’s ego.

“I’m, o-oh,” Blurr’s face quickly starts to stiffen and fill with horror as his processor struggles to grasp what he’s just done.

“None of that operative Blurr, you are overcharged and overexcited from a job well done,” Longarm soothes. “I suggest you go to berth and we forget this altercation between us, yes?”

Blurr nods, “Sorry sir, thank you sir.”

Longarm merely gives a patient smile in goodnight and leaves his underling to find his way into his own berth.

It doesn’t fully stop Blurr’s inquisitions into the traitor, of course it doesn't. But it throws him off balance, leaves him distracted and vulnerable for further interference. The fact that their relationship had taken a decidedly more personal tone was serving well to help keep him out of the spotlight. Which is all Shockwave wants in the long term. He leaves Blurr alone for the most part in favor of keeping his optic on other potential threats.

The disturbingly competent rogue brigade stationed in Detroit, Jazz’s concerningly diligent snuffling around, Sentinel’s obnoxious habit of ripping the rug out from under everyone for the sake of feeding his own ego. Yes, the Autobot faction had quite a diverse and vibrant array of operatives that all posed a threat in their own unique and sometimes unintentional ways.

He still interacts with Blurr of course, but as he had said the night of, it would be wise to forget their interactions. Or at least pretend to. His casual touches still occur and he still finds himself seeing more of Blurr than what he previously was accustomed to. They are friendly but professional. Working closely, yet distant. It gives Blurr time to settle down and ruminate and Shockwave time to calculate his next moves on a host of fields.

Then Blurr comes to him.

“Sir, I am afraid I have something concerning to report,” Blurr says after having entered Longarm’s office and shutting the door behind him. 

“Go ahead, operative Blurr,” Longarm says patiently, smiling softly as he looks at Blurr and watches his optics light up as he shifts uneasily from pede to pede.

“I have, as you well know, been gathering intelligence for months. I have compiled a list, a list of which I was routinely updating and crossing off operatives once I could discern without doubt that they were not an intelligence threat to the Autobot faction. And thus, after months of narrowing things down I have arrived at the conclusion that the traitor must be coming from somewhere within high command,” Blurr finished. 

“Very unsettling news indeed, operative Blurr,” Longarm rumbled as he sat up to take the datapad that Blurr held out to him. He looked it over. Indeed Blurr’s net was getting smaller and smaller and it was only a matter of time until he became ensnared in it.

“And how do you want to proceed,” he is asking the question to himself as much as he is Blurr. 

Blurr looks at him nervously, “Well, ah sir, while this is very much progress in that things have been narrowed down considerably, I am reaching a dead end and was wondering if I could request your expertise.”

“My expertise,” Longarm, murmured, leaning forward to look at Blurr intently. The agent in front of him squirmed. 

“I was wondering if we could, err, work more closely on this together. I cannot exactly petition for anyone else’s help in this, as you well know. So I came to you.”

“I am flattered that you hold me in such esteem and ensure you have my utmost dedication in aiding you in this task,” Longarm said warmly. Blurr’s faceplates seemed to heat at that and if he had to guess that little high pitched whine was him trying to suppress his engines from revving. 

“What did you have in mind?”

\---

Hours later he finds himself surveying an empty command quarters. With the exception of the overnight security crew, there is no one else in the building.

After nearly an hour walking around looking for anything out of the norm, Blurr jumping at every stray sound and shadow, Longarm decides to make a little something of the night. As they round a corner near a supply closet, he hurriedly grabs Blurr and tucks the two of them into the closet, claiming in a hushed whisper to have heard something.

He of course, hears nothing, but pressing his advantage with Blurr’s alarmed expression he pushing a digit to his lips and pretends to listen intently, pretending not to notice their close proximity to each other. 

Blurr is between him and the door, so when Longarm leans over to push his audial against the surface, as if pretending to listen for more noise, he simultaneously pins Blurr under him.

Blurr’s resolve cracks and his fans click on. The noise is distractingly loud in the the silence and Blurr hurriedly works to disengage them.

“S-sorry sir,” Blurr’s voice holds a quaver of embarrassment as he tries to make himself smaller against the door and ease back from under Longarm’s frame. 

“Blurr. It seems this attraction of yours is becoming more and more of a distraction. I have tried to be patient and wait for it to abate.”

Blurr nods, looking abashed. 

“So if necessary, I shall indulge your curiosity just this once so this can cease being a distraction for you. We will be spending a lot of time together and it is better to get this issue sorted now.”

Blurr nods again, eagerly, before seeming to process the statement, helm snapping up to look at Longarm questioningly, “I, err, sir?”

“If you would rather continue as we were, that is fine as well,” Longarm moves on, hastily pushing the idea of the proposition away as if it were a foolish idea. “But regardless, I cannot afford for our interactions to become a distraction, so if necessary, I can proceed with the investigation on my own.”

“No, no, no. I,” Blurr looks at a loss for words, unsure of how to proceed. Unsure of how to give into his desires even though they stand so plainly proffered before him.

“I will be returning to my quarters, if you would like to join me,” Longarm continues as if he hadn’t spoken. He puts his servo on the door, listening quietly. “All clear.”

With that he leaves. He doesn’t look back, doesn’t give away the way he is hoping that his bait will be picked up. A whirr of engines and Blurr is by his side again. Excellent. The walk back is near silent, but he can feel the energy positively radiating off the mech next to him.

As Longarm reaches his quarters, opens them and holds the door, Blurr darts inside. Once in though, he seems disconcerted as to what to do. Longarm strolls to his berth, sits down on it and looks at Blurr steadily, patting his knee.

“Come operative Blurr, unless you no longer wish to do this, in which case, as before, we can leave this to be forgotten.”

Blurr all but hurtles himself onto his knee after a moment of hesitation, hastily zipping across the room. The way his frame lurchs to a halt a little is more endearing than it has a right to be.

“Ah, my prime agent,” Longarm murmurs, servo stroking down the curve of Blurr’s back to rest lightly on his aft. “While the distraction is unwelcome, the opportunity to repay you a bit for some of your hard work is much appreciated.”

He leans in for a kiss, pressing his lips onto Blurr’s, it is slow and languorous, Blurr being rather stiff and uninviting at first. But as he shifts him a little higher onto his knee, pressing him down a little so that he can feel the heat radiating from Blurr’s interfacing panel a bit more firmly, Blurr’s mouth opens up and the kiss gets decidedly more sloppy and open.

He can feel the tremor of Blurr’s engines has he slides his servos along his plating. Hear the way his engines rev as he makes his way down towards Blurr’s interface array.

Blurr is as he expects him to be. Someone as neurotic and busy as him surely also neglects their social life, so the snapping of Blurr’s panels open, clearly not at his own volition by Blurr’s soft embarrassed noise, does not come as a surprise. Neither does the deluge of slick lubricant or the swollen, needy appearance of his valve.

Longarm has to refrain from visibly licking his lips at the sight. Oh yes, it was a pleasure to have someone so wanting and desperate under him. Power, after all, in any form, was heady and pervasive in its presence.

He drags a digit through the mess, eyeing Blurr’s reaction. The agent squirms and a soft breathy utterance of “sir” is sighed.

“What does the hero of the night desire?” He murmurs low in Blurr’s audial, watching with pleasure as a shudder wracks through the frame under him. He doesn’t expect an answer, he does expect the blushing spluttering mess that Blurr quickly becomes at the request.

“If you are burdened by choice, permit me to make a suggestion?”

Blurr merely gives a jerky nod. A large servo is pressing him down into the bed and Blurr’s legs seem to spread on their own as Longarm is kissing sloppily up to the inside of quivering thighs. Lubricant is pooling in a small damp spot under Blurr’s valve, and it’s from the small dribble Longarm licks his way up to the base of Blurr’s spike, earning him a shudder and a whine.

A digit makes its way to Blurr’s anterior node as Longarm’s intake envelopes his spike in warm heat, leaving Blurr to squirm under him.

“S-sir, I can’t, I won’t-,” It’s adorable really, how quickly a rush of warm transfluid spurts into Longarm’s mouth, which he easily swallows down.

He pulls off to see Blurr looking flustered and embarrassed.

“No need for that Blurr,” Longarm soothes, rubbing a servo up his thigh in placation. “Would you like to continue?” 

A shaky nod is given and a thick digit swipes through the coating of lubricant before pressing itself into Blurr’s valve. It really has been an embarrassing and unfortunately long time since he last interfaced, and that fact was merely punctuated by the copious amounts of lubricant that seeps out of him.

In this form their size is not an issue, Shockwave notes absentmindedly. But the image of Blurr, squirming and struggling to take him at his full, natural size comes unprompted, and it is that image that spurs him onward. He thrusts a digit into Blurr’s valve, watching the agent under him squirm and shudder.

The calipers around him seize and cycle down, and it is completely unsurprising to him that Blurr is this tight and this tense, even after an overload. But still, a part of his valve feels, hot, quivery, and pliant, so Longarm uses that leeway to push in another digit, watching Blurr’s face for any sign of discomfort or indication that he should pull out.

None come, instead the pinched, dully irritated and anxious look that seemed to pervade Blurr’s expression loosens up a bit. It’s not gone of course, it being an integral part of who Blurr was, but its easing allows the mech under him to look like a somewhat younger and more confident iteration of himself.

He works his digits diligently and at first he thinks it is a sigh of the building settling or someone shifting elsewhere in the distance, but he comes to realize the gentle breathy noises are coming from Blurr. He crooks his digits, rubbing more firmly around the inside of his valve, attempting to prise more of the curious noises from the mech under him.

He’s rewarded with a shiver and a light moan. Blurr seems to take a moment to recognize the sound came from him before immediately tensing up and looking flustered again.

“Longarm sir, please,” He begins, and then trails off, faceplates growing heated. “I’d like to continue.”

“Of course,” Longarm says, and a part of him chuckles to himself over the fact that Blurr’s formal air of stiffness can’t quite leave him, even in the berth.

He nudges the head of his spike into the slick swell of Blurr’s valve, and the groan of pleasure that ekes out of him as he pushes in, unlike most of his smiles and laughter over the past few months, is entirely natural and involuntary. Blurr feels tight and hot and wanting under him. He looks down to see the blue mech’s face scrunched up in discomfort, though seemingly not quite pain.

He leans down to murmur lowly in Blurr’s audial, “Operative Blurr, are you quite alright?”

“Yes,” the word comes out quivery and uncertain, but Longarm pushes deeper, his spike pushing apart, stretching and filling Blurr in ways that he hasn’t been in years. Sure he’d had a spare fling or two, mostly with distant agents where there was no risk of inter division conflict. But they had usually been sharp, short and distinctly unsatisfying for Blurr’s tastes.

For a mech as naturally quick as he was, he left the preference of speed outside the berth, interface was something he liked to savor. And savor he did as his servos reached out to grope at strong forearms as his internals were prised apart. It struck him that his self service fantasy was coming true, all the nights of desperately riding a false spike and pretending it was Longarm couldn’t compare to this.

It couldn’t compare to the way his digit rubbed at his anterior node, and Longarm’s voice came low in his audial, encouraging him to loosen up. It couldn’t compare to the heat he could feel radiating off the other mech which confirmed, delightfully so, that the enjoyment of the moment was mutual. It couldn’t compare to the slow burn inside his valve that Blurr knew he would be feeling tomorrow morning.

No, none of it could compare to attaining his desire at last.

Longarm starts his pace, slow and careful, still watching Blurr’s expression, but after the mech under him gives a needy little buck of his hips, Longarm decides to start fragging him in earnest. The pace is steady and satisfying and Blurr can feel the tight well of warmth building up from his groin and he thinks he could honestly be edged for hours and as long as he got to bask in Longarm’s gentle gaze and hear his grunts of pleasure low in his audial, he could take it with pleasure and duty.

Just as Blurr is feeling like he is edging towards the cusp of his overload, he starts to tense and grab at Longarm. 

“Sir, I-I think,” He stutters.

“Relax into it Blurr, let go,” a soothing voice commands, and he does, his transfluid shooting hot and hard across his plating and tension he wasn’t even aware he had been holding in still easing out of him. He lays there in a daze, panting and recovering from his overload. It takes him a couple moments to realize that Longarm has paused and that he also hasn’t overloaded.

“Longarm, sir?” Blurr questions, staring at the mech who is only gazing back at him intently. “You didn’t overload yet sir, do you want me to….” Blurr gestures vaguely. He’s do anything Longarm asked him right now, and he feels his valve clench a little as his processor dredges up a couple of suggestions for things he could do.

“No need operative Blurr, we aren’t finished yet,” Longarm says, slight smirk to his words as he flips Blurr onto his front. Without warning he is reentering Blurr’s overstimulated valve, nodes singing as they are coaxed into building charge once again.

The angle and pace is different this time, it’s rougher, harder, deeper. Blurr can’t help the way his valve keeps fluttering around the spike pushing him and he can’t help the embarrassing noises that start coming out of his intake as Longarm’s spike starts bumping against his ceiling node.

Slick noises fill the room as Longarm rocks in and out of Blurr’s swollen leaking valve, the bed under them quickly becoming a mess. A slew of noises are leaking out of the agent pinned under him and it pleases him to know that Blurr is just as incessantly noisy in the berth as he is out of it.

Longarm thrusts in deep and holds himself there, grinding up on the ceiling of Blurr’s valve and the mech under him can’t help but squirm and clench against the sensation, which serves little to lessen the burden.

“Well Blurr, do you think you can keep your mind out of the gutter on missions now?” Longarm murmurs into his audial. He bucks his hips in a sharp thrust and a bolt of crackling charge has Blurr crying out in pleasure. “Do you think this will help with your little… distraction?” The last word is practically purred into his audial.

“Yes,” Blurr pants. “Yes, yes, yes, sir please, please,” he doesn’t know what he’s begging for but the words spill out of him anyways.

“I don’t think it will,” Longarm hums. “But if needed we can have a repeat performance, can’t we Blurr?” A digit is pressing into his node, pinching and rubbing it while a servo snakes around to his hips hauling him back on Longarm’s spike and seemingly pushing it impossibly deeper. Blurr tries to suppress a choked noise.

“Yes, yes sir,” Blurr moans.

“Good, operative Blurr, good, overload for me now,” He murmurs lowly into Blurr’s audial, feeling the way the plump valve around him clenches at the sound of his voice. His servo grips Blurr’s spike, tugging it roughly and with a strangled groan Blurr overloads, hard and long, transfluid spattering onto the berth under them. Longarm follows soon after, hot jets of transfluid blooming inside Blurr’s valve as he frags him through his overload.

Part of him wants more. To continue rubbing at the spike under him, pinching at his node, and thrusting into the heat of Blurr’s valve, forcing out overload after overload until the agent under him is pliant and vulnerable and open to be pried apart in so many different ways.

But he holds back. Because that is Shockwave’s desire and right now he is fronting as Longarm and Longarm cares about Blurr’s consent and respect. So he eases out of the valve, watching as a slow gush of transfluid follows out after him, the lips parted and gapings slightly, looking abused and raw. Blurr himself looks the same, but also sated. 

As his spike leaves him and a small trail of transfluid follows, Blurr feels himself slumping back into the berth and near collapsing into a boneless heap. Distantly, he can feel the rush of moral conflict and agonizing to come over the events that played out tonight, but for the moment he is too tired to focus on that, and the call to recharge is too sweet.

Dimly Blurr drifts off, watching as the form of Longarm seems to stretch and grow as a single red spot of light seems to loom down at him. 

All things to worry about later, he tells himself.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of shit in the works, sorry things are coming out and updating so slow


End file.
